Outtakes
by quillstrike
Summary: A collection of scenes from the OQaS-verse
1. Seth: OQaS 28

**Seth**

**Author note: 'ello! I've had this idea for a while now, and I finally got the motivation to start. The basic idea is that I will be writing one-shots from various POVs of events that occurred in the OQaS-verse (so no asking me to write from Harry's POV from the time he received his Hogwarts letter). I will be using a random generator to pick who/what scene I'll write about from the review section (in other words, you can post your requests – say character name + scene + chapter if applicable – and I'll randomly select one). This first one is a gift for Unpretentious for being my 200****th**** reviewer for OCaT! :D Thank you all! C:**

_Seth POV – Chapter 28 of OQaS_

"Oi! Seth."

I paused mid-motion, my shirt wrapped around my shoulders uncomfortably as I began to pull it on.

"What?" I asked.

Scorpius leaned against his bedpost, contemplatively turning a small object – an inkwell – over in his hands.

"Do you-do you know how to avoid getting brutally murdered by angry fathers?" he asked finally, still looking away determinedly.

I smoothly scooped up my discarded shirt (which had been lying on the ground – I was never one for orderliness) and lobbed it at Scorpius's head. He flinched, scowling at me in annoyance.

"Oi!" he protested. I shrugged. "I know we're Slytherins, mate, but honestly – you're acting like a right coward," I said pointedly. "I mean, people have been wanting to kill you your whole life. Why are you suddenly worrying about it now?"

His pale cheeks reddened, and a wicked smile spread across my face. Aha. So this was about a certain redheaded Weasley.

"This is about Rose, isn't it? And the fact that her father, one of the most prominent _Aurors_, is going to murder you when he finds out you've been slobbering over his precious, _only _daughter," I continued.

His scowl deepened, and to my surprise Scorpius looked genuinely angry. "I should have known you wouldn't take this seriously," he muttered before leaping to his feet and moving to the door leading out of our dorms.

I blinked, still a bit at a loss at what had just happened. I was too proud to apologise for something I didn't understand, though, so I merely asked, "Where are you going?"

He paused, his hand resting on the doorknob. "To your sister's Duel club," he answered finally, not bothering to turn around. Then he left, slamming the door shut behind him.

I sat back on my bed, staring at the closed door for another moment before shaking my head. His words didn't hurt, I told myself firmly. He didn't mean it. I stared down at my hands, frowning slightly as I mulled over his words. I was known as the stupid twin – the one who was more likeable, sure (though that wasn't too hard of a reputation to obtain when your sister was a hermit), but everyone tacitly agreed that I was the foolish boy who couldn't take things seriously. And why would they think otherwise when Adela was a bloody genius?

I pushed down a flicker of unease, determinedly fixing a bright smile on my face (then I dimmed it down a bit; I couldn't go around looking like freaking _Santa Claus_, for Merlin's sake) and wrenching myself from my bed (it was quite cozy, and I normally would be fast asleep…Adela should thank her lucky stars that she has such a loving and thoughtful brother).

I had a duel club to attend.

xxxxxxxxx

The huge horde of chattering students led me to Duel Club; all I had to do was follow the trail of students playfully slashing at the air with their wands in some odd mockery of a duel. I wasn't the best dueler (though I would only admit that under extreme duress), but even I knew that if you didn't take it seriously, your chances of surviving were extremely slim (as in, smaller than the chances of seeing Adela don a frilly dress and willingly attend one of Mother's luncheons).

I spotted a flash of white-blond hair and automatically began to make my way over but stopped when I saw that Rose was with him. I hesitated before smoothly switching directions, acting as if I had meant to head towards the giggling group of Hufflepuffs in the first place (dear Merlin. Out of _all _the directions I could have picked). Before I could change directions again, however, my _darling_ sister shrieked "Oi" at a pitch that could have shattered even the thickest of glasses.

Everyone winced, cringing downwards and clutching at their ears. Master of charisma, my sister was not. Unfortunately, this action led one of the Hufflepuffs to spot me, and I realised with horror that she was the girl I'd accidentally dumped into a pile of hippogriff dung (it was a long story involving a dare and several stitches) back in third year. She narrowed her eyes, jabbing her elbow at her friends until they all spotted me, their arms moving in synchronization to go to their hips.

Fantastic. Just bloody fantastic. Making a mental note to embarrass Adela at the nearest opportunity for revenge, I carefully inched my way away. My sister and Al – when had they started tolerating each other's presence? – were still speaking, but I was a bit preoccupied with the murderous Hufflepuffs to pay close attention to them.

Maybe this was like escaping from a bear. You just had to keep quiet and make no sudden movements. A sudden image of a bear dressed in the lurid Hufflepuff yellow flashed in my mind, and I couldn't help but smirk a bit – which, of course, made the Hufflepuffs even angrier.

Then there was silence, and the girl looked back up towards the stage, her eyes widening a bit. Her entourage followed suit, and several began whispering feverishly behind cupped hands as they stared at the stage. Great. Adela had probably gone and turned herself pink again (okay, to be fair, _I'd_ been the one to plant the potion in her bacon that time…but how was I supposed to know she'd go and eat the whole _platter_).

Mentally steeling myself for whatever horrific sight I was going to see, I turned slowly, raising my head to look at the stage.

…

What?

Al – no, the treacherous Potter demon child who was going to be hexed soon if I did not receive an explanation soon – was wrapping his lecherous arm around my baby sister. I scowled, my hand reaching towards my wand, before stopping myself abruptly. Wait. I wasn't some _Gryffindor_. I wasn't about to charge right in bellowing loudly and firing hexes every which way. Al was probably just trying to restrain her from accidentally hexing herself. Besides, hexing him when he was defenseless – and without hundreds of witnesses – would be more effective.

So I forced myself to calm down, removing my hand from my wand, and watched the stage with narrowed eyes. Adela had pushed away from Al at this point, and her cheeks were doing that annoying thing and turning bright red (stupid genetics; my cheeks did the same thing).

Adela was clearly flustered, and she'd started bellowing about shield charms. I folded my arms over my chest and glared at Al silently. My peers were starting to chatter excitedly and group in partners around me, pushing past me and glaring when I didn't move from my central position.

Yes, I decided. Al was going to have to be interrogated. I brightened a bit at the thought – hey! Maybe I'd finally be able to try out that new sweet I'd picked up at Hogsmeade that turned people red.

Feeling considerably more cheerful, I whistled to myself contentedly and walked over to one of the Gryffindor chasers (I hated them all) and pulling him over to one of the dueling platforms.

I bowed, adjusting my grip on my wand. Then-

"_BATTLE CRY!"_

**AN: As always, thanks so much for reading! :) Remember – if you'd like to see a particular scene/character POV, just ask! It's a bit odd to be writing from a different character's POV, but it's nice practice. These one-shots will be of varying length but will on average be shorter than the OCaT chapters. **


	2. Albus: OQaS 1

**Albus**

**Shona-Ann: "This is great! What about Al's point of view when Adela has green hair?"**

_Albus POV – Chapter 1 of OQaS_

"_MUM, I CAN'T FIND MY OWL!"_

Lily.

"_HOW IN MERLIN'S NAME DO YOU LOSE A BLOODY OWL?"_

Mum.

"_I DON'T KNOW – IT'S NOT MY FAULT!"_

Lily again.

Loud stomping noises echoed from my right as Mum began her ascent up the wooden stairs. From the sound of it, Mum was furious. Lily must have come to the same conclusion as I had, for softer scuttling noises soon sounded from the direction of her bedroom – she was probably trying to escape through the window again. Unsuccessfully, too – from the way the scratching noises were becoming more frantic, she'd gotten herself stuck between the frames again. By now Mum was storming up the second floor of the house. Lily's room was right next to mine on the third floor. Hm. I weighed my options, tilting my head slightly as I gazed out of the window pensively.

Pros of helping the little sister: I get to lord it over her. I get a favor to be called in (though Lily was rather useless when it came to the things I needed to get done – most of them involved spying and/or avoiding James as much as possible).

Cons: Risk Mum's wrath (which was _not _something to be taken lightly).

As of now, the con side was winning. By a lot. So I yawned, stretching my legs out on the windowseat and resumed my watch of the quiet street outside. Scorpius and Seth were bound to arrive any minute now. I'd already packed all of my things; my trunk lay quietly by my door where I could keep an eye on it (the last time I'd left it unattended, James had filled it with hippogriff dung).

The scratching was getting louder, this time accompanied by half-strangled, panicked yells of frustration.

I groaned.

"Oh, _come on_," I muttered to myself, grabbing my wand and leaping to my feet. Then I headed over to Lily's room, allowing myself a moment to snicker (quietly – Lily might be young, but she could be bloody scary. I blame genetics – the Weasley side is nothing to scoff at) at the ridiculous image in front of me. Lily had managed to wiggle so that she was half-hanging out of the room, her legs dangling against her flowered wallpaper. She'd recently hit a growth spurt and was now entering her fourth year. I'd already caught – and hexed – a few blokes talking about her in a way that made me want to gag.

"Hello, sister dear," I said cheerfully, walking forward just close enough to be out of range of her flailing legs.

She cast a half-annoyed, half-panicked look over her shoulder.

"_Al!_" she hissed, her eyes darting to the door behind her. I feigned nonchalance, though my back was tensed and my ears carefully pricked to monitor Mum's progress. Luckily Dad had managed to sidetrack her on the stairs – I could distantly hear them talking about some Ministry affair.

"Get me out of here!"

I raised an eyebrow.

She groaned, muttering something about "blasted Slytherins," before saying, "Fine. I'll do your dishes for a week."

I pretended to be fascinated with her bookshelf. Merlin, she had a lot of pink books. Lily let out another frustrated huff.

"_Two _weeks!"

I grinned, turning to face her once more.

"That's more like it," I said. Muffled noises were coming from outside – Mum had advanced to the hallway. I exchanged a panicked look with Lily before pushing her frantically, bracing my feet against her pink carpet (so much pink – her room made me want to vomit).

The sounds were growing louder now. I resumed my efforts quickly, pushing at her feet with my shoulders and arms.

"Come…on!" I hissed through gritted teeth. Then, with a muffled thump, Lily was out of the window and clinging to the oak tree outside.

I exchanged one last harried look with her before she began scuttling down the bark with practised ease.

The door banged open, revealing one angry-looking Ginny Potter.

I cringed inwardly; Lily owed me for this. Big time.

"Al? _Al._ Where is my daughter?" she asked evenly, crossing her arms. Uh oh. Crossing arms=first sign of the Ginny Anger meter.

"Um. You know, you're looking particularly nice today," I tried.

Her scowl deepened.

"Albus Severus Pot-"

That was sign number two and cue for me to flee. Luckily, I heard the telling creak of a carriage pulling up on the street outside.

"Oh, look, Seth's here! I'd better go – bye!" I rushed past her before she had time to react, grabbing my trunk and dragging it over to the stairwell.

In my haste, I slammed into a bloke. Great. Just bloody great.

I collected myself before mustering up the coldest look I could manage, sneering down at James.

He looked down at my trunk before meeting my eyes with a scornful glare.

"Off to play with the purebloods again?"

I stiffened, my hand tightening on my wand. Merlin, I hated him.

Patience, Al. Patience. I could always worry about him later.

Though all I wanted to do was hex him, I forced myself to look away. Seth and Scorpius were waiting – and with them came a blessed escape from this jerk of a person.

"Traitor!" James called from behind me. I ignored him, slamming the front door open.

Seth blinked, exchanging a long look with Scorpius.

"What?" I snapped.

"Nothing," he said slowly. Then he grinned. "Need help with that trunk, mate? It looks a bit heavy."

I fought down a grin, my prior anger slowly dissipating.

"Sod off, Seth. Try and carry this trunk and you'd break your arm," I jeered.

We made our way to the waiting carriage, and with each step I took away from the house, the lighter I felt. Maybe this day could be salvaged after all.

I heard muffled thumping sounds from inside the carriage. Did Seth have some house elf shut up in there? I opened the door, my eyes widening at the sight inside.

Seth's sister was jabbing at her – bright green – hair with her wand, muttering crazily to herself. Her hair was as wild as always, though the usual dark brown had changed to a lurid green that made every other colour dull in comparison.

Seth's sister was odd, to say the least. She was a meddling annoyance at times and had gotten it into her head that she hated me, which made for some amusing spectacles.

My lips twitched. Yup. This day was going to be fine.

Scorpius looked horrified, and he was inching away slowly from the carriage. My grin widened. Now I had something to hold over Scorpius _and _I got an amusing spectacle to watch.

She had noticed our presence by now, and she was darting wary glances at me. I smirked at her, and she scowled, turning away with a huff.

"Your sister's a nutter," I said to Seth.

She let out a half-strangled noise, banging her head against the carriage window.

Life was good.

**Author Note: thanks for reading! Remember, if you have any scenes you want to be picked, just post them in your review and I'll run them all through a random number picker to choose which one I'll do! :) The 300****th**** reviewer of OCaT will automatically receive a one-shot. **


	3. Albus: OQaS 23

**Albus**

**Prize for The Hazel Purple Skyline for being my 300****th**** reviewer for OCaT :)**

_Albus POV – Chapter 23 of OQaS_

She dragged me to a bloody quill shop.

A _quill _shop. Merlin, I had no idea those even existed (how was there a big enough market to keep those running?). After we'd escaped from the revolting display of Malfoy pawing my baby cousin (which I would _certainly _be paying him back for), Lancaster forced me over to some small side street of Hogsmeade and into this dusty shop.

Okay, maybe dragged is an exaggeration. It was more like she took off running and I followed her to make sure she didn't get into any more trouble. Well, that and the fact that where Lancaster went, hilarity soon followed.

And Merlin knew I was in desperate need of some amusement after the gag-worthy hormonal action back at the Three Broomsticks.

I shuddered at the memory before leaning back against the wooden counter as I took in my surroundings. The store was dark and dusty with bundles of quills levitating in the air and protruding from every crevice of the cobbled walls. It was…a bit quaint, actually. I could see why it could appeal to some people.

I cast my eyes back to Lancaster. Her hair was messy and her gestures as needlessly wild as ever. Merlin knew how Seth's sister ever survived the ballroom dancing classes that were expected of Pureblood children. She probably took out a few people on her first day.

She was speaking with an elderly man – the shopkeeper, then. I couldn't imagine this store got many customers.

The man glanced at me, narrowing his watery blue eyes.

I stiffened; here was the part where he either a) thought I was my father (Merlin, I _hated _when that happened – that usually ended up with my being either hugged or spat at…depending on what part of London I was in) b) started expecting me to do some extraordinary feat of magic befitting of the son of the savior of the bloody Wizarding World or c) sneered and said something about how the talent certainly hadn't passed on to me.

To my surprise, his gaze remained blank.

"And who is this?" he asked, swiveling back to face Lancaster. Lancaster turned around to eye me shrewdly. I scowled at her; that witch was too intelligent. I always had the sinking feeling that she was trying to decipher my innermost thoughts. Knowing her brain (what did she call it again? Numberita?), she would probably be successful if I let her pry for too long. She rolled her eyes and said casually, "Oh, he's no one of importance."

…

What.

My scowl deepened as I glared at her back. How _dare _she dismiss me? I was not some bloody _Hufflepuff_. I wasn't going to take this abuse without retribution.

Perhaps I could take away her bacon. From what I could tell from the six-odd years that I'd known her, the girl was obsessed with the food (as in, the last time she heard there wasn't any bacon in her house she almost tore Seth apart).

The old man was sighing in resignation by now. Figures. Lancaster was definitely a force to be reckoned with.

She bounced up and down, her mouth widening into a broad grin. She pushed her hair back excitedly, beaming all the while. Merlin. When she smiled, it was like someone went and dumped happiness and good cheer all over place. It was a bit unsettling (though not in a necessarily unpleasant way), but I couldn't help but smile a bit in return, my lips curling upward as I watched her dance a little in place.

Then she froze, her expression falling at an almost comical pace.

Great. Now she looked like she was on the verge of tears.

I hated crying people. I never knew what to say (I'd taken to carrying around armloads of sweets with me to shove into the would-be crier's mouth whenever I got the first hint of incoming tears, but unfortunately I'd left them in my dorm).

I weighed my options; I could either go over and offer a begrudging inquiry into her health or I could pretend to be fascinated with this white quill to my right.

Her lip was quivering now, and she was glaring fiercely at the floor, looking as if she'd like nothing more than burn a hole through the wood.

Well, I certainly wasn't going to be responsible for any property damage. I walked toward her, asking, "What's wrong?"

She started, looking up to meet my eyes.

Then she swallowed, making a visible effort to school her expression. She lifted her chin haughtily. I watched her skeptically, raising an eyebrow; honestly, she was maybe the worst liar I'd ever met. And that was coming from the bloke with Hugo Weasley for a cousin.

"What do you mean?" she asked.

I resisted the urge to roll my eyes.

"Well, three seconds ago you were grinning like a lunatic and now you look like you're about to burst into tears," I said pointedly.

She huffed, turning her nose up. I bit back another smile. Lancaster couldn't look haughty even if the livelihood of bacon relied on it. Which was kind of nice – Merlin knew I'd been around enough of Victoire's antics when she was first named model of the year.

"I don't know what you're talking about," she said primly. This time I did roll my eyes. Fine. She obviously didn't want to admit that she was upset. I had no idea what was making her anxious, but I might as well distract her.

This had to fulfill my quota of good Samaritan actions for the day. Hey! Maybe this would counteract my future revenge against Scorpius. You see this, Karma? This is me being a good person. Please don't feel the need to shove any bad fortune my way for the rest of my life. Thanks and much appreciated.

Besides, Lancaster did look distressed. And contrary to popular belief, I was not impervious to pity (Merlin knew Lily's successfully pulled the cursed puppy dog eyes trick time and time again).

I turned to a random shelf, running my fingers lightly over the first quill that caught my eye – the same white one from before.

"This one's nice," I said. Lancaster loved quills. If this didn't distract her, I didn't know what would.

Thankfully she brightened immediately, reciting matter-of-factly, "Barn owl, approximately 2 years old and 3 months, give or take a few days."

I stared at her for a moment before shaking my head slightly. Of course. This was Lancaster I was speaking to. I would be lying if I said I wasn't impressed.

Realizing I was still staring at her, I quickly brought my eyes back down to look at the quill.

"You know, I need a new quill anyway. Might as well pick one up now," I said.

I turned to her, an expectant look on my face.

"Wait. Does it pass the Adela test?"

She gaped at me for a moment.

Merlin, was she going to make me say it?

Silence.

She was. I sighed, saying, "Sorry – does it pass the _Awesome _Adela test?" There. That should make her happy; she often went around Hogwarts bellowing that her name was Awesome Adela. Seth reckoned that she genuinely believed that if she referred to herself that way often enough, the other students would have no choice but to call her that as well (it was a bit sad, but far too funny to stop).

She nodded, a short, abrupt movement. Now she looked like she'd swallowed a pint of nails. Er. Maybe I shouldn't have tried to approach her. This was a stupid idea.

"Right, I'll just go buy this then," I said slowly, making my way towards the counter. While I was waiting, the curtains toward the back fluttered once more as Scrivenshaft returned.

He carried a velvet box carefully in front of him. I edged closer, peering at the object curiously. He reverently opened the box, holding up its contents just high enough that I could see it. It was a quill that looked remarkable like an opal, all clouded smears of colour and expensive-looking details.

Lancaster asked the price.

"1000 galleons," he said.

Lancaster began spluttering, her eyes widening and her mouth dropping open in disbelief. Though I wasn't as expressive (I _did _have some pride, after all), I was also shocked by his answer. Merlin. A _thousand _galleons? That was ridiculous. It was a fine quill, sure, but no quill was worth that much. Something was off. I narrowed my eyes at Scrivenshaft, noting the way his left hand was trembling behind his back and the way his eyes were fixated determinedly on a spot far to the right of Lancaster's head.

Yes, something was up with this bloke.

Scrivenshaft said something about "cannot let this go for less than 800 galleons." Which was absolute rubbish. I was sure the quill was worth at the most only 500 galleons – which was still quite a sizeable amount, but certainly not as outlandish as 1000 galleons. I surveyed the shop quickly, observing the patched wall and the leaky pipes jutting out in the back.

I'd bet James's last Quidditch jersey that Scrivenshaft needed 800 galleons for something – whether it was for repairs or debts I did not know. But I was going to find out.

Lancaster stormed out, and Scrivenshaft sighed, clicking the velvet box shut with a regretful shake of his head.

I turned to him, sneering slightly to show what I thought of his supposed regret (the git was probably expecting her to return with the asked sum).

"You're hiding something," I said coldly.

He blanched, his face reddening slightly as he took a step back, his mouth opening to spout some rubbish excuse. I stepped forward quietly, cutting him off before he could speak.

"And I'm going to find out what it is."

With a final disdainful look, I turned and exited the shop, running forward to catch up with Lancaster.

This Hogsmeade trip had just gotten interesting.

**Author Note: Thanks for reading! :) If you'd like to see a particular scene/POV, just leave a suggestion and I'll pick the winning prompt using a random generator c:**


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